Sometimes it Hurts
by Duskwraithe
Summary: It took almost two hours to write this lovely songfic. The least you can do is light up my day with a tiny review.


HELP!!!!!! If you know the Christian love song "Another Letter" by Send the  
Beggar, PLEASE help me out here. It's a really great song, kind of  
alternative/rock, but for the life of me I can't figure out half the  
chorus. And trust me, I searched the internet within an inch of its life  
and NOTHING. I'm good with computers, and if the lyrics were anywhere on the web, I'd have found them. I only got so far. If you give me the lyrics  
(or even make something up that's reasonable) I will be forever in your debt. As for the disclaimer, I own nothing. So on with the part of the song that I know. Remember, the sooner I find the lyrics, the sooner I'll finish  
this. If not, I'll leave it here. And nice optimistic reviews literally  
light up my whole day, even if you haven't heard the song.  
  
Sometimes it hurts to watch you... To watch you  
  
Sam was on watch that night. Stinker was off somewhere, and the only thing that kept him from going insane in this dark, empty world was Frodo. He was lying there so still, as if he were dead. Frodo Baggins was always the only thing that Sam lived for anymore. His lovely gardens were things of the past, his gaffer and all his friends, though not forgotten, were also a thing of the past, and now food and water and comfortable places to sleep were also something already almost forgotten. Sam didn't even have his beloved pots and pans anymore. But he had Frodo with him still.  
  
Sometimes I smile when you smile at the things that I give you  
  
Frodo was starting to toss and turn. His fumbling, terrified moans Sam could hear above the howling of the wind. No doubt having those blasted nightmares again. Oh, Sam thought, if only I could take his nightmares for him, and he'd be able to sleep peacefully. He reached out to stroke Frodo's hair, running his fingers through the tangles so tenderly. Frodo seemed to sense it, and calmed once more. Sam loved Frodo so much, and Frodo's suffering was hurting Sam almost as badly, if not more. Frodo gave into very light snoring, that was only a continual rasp in the darkness. Sam could barely hear it, but somehow it gave him comfort.  
  
Sometimes it hurts when you fight all the things that I give you  
  
Sam scooted closer to Frodo. The wind fanged its way through him with icy talons, and Frodo's (whom Sam had willingly given most of their blankets) weak body heat was the only thing keeping Sam from frostbite. But he quickly moved away again, because Frodo had begun to thrash horribly again. He must have dreamt that Sam was an enemy to be fended off or escaped. Didn't he know his own Sam? No, not in sleep. Not this time.  
  
Sometimes I smile when I'm taking the things that will kill you  
  
Sam remembered the time when the black rider stabbed Frodo. He lay in that big old bed in Rivendell for days without opening his eyes but having the most horrid nightmares. And his hand was so cold. All Sam could do was sit next to him and hold his cold, cold hand, and smooth the tangles of black curls from his forehead. Once, when Sam had stayed attentive at Frodo's side for almost a full thirty hours, he became so tired that he fell asleep with his head resting on the side of the bed. He halfway woke to Frodo stirring awake. "Oh poor Sam! Come up here where it's comfortable. There's room enough for both of us." Sam had groggily complied, happy to know that his Frodo was well enough to be so coherent. That morning, he woke to the peaceful sounds of Frodo's breathing, realised where he was, and scrambled back to his chair blushing violently. When Frodo awoke later that morning, it seemed he had no memory of any of it. If he did, he did not talk of it.  
  
Sometimes it hurts when you're embracing the things that will kill you  
  
But now, there was no peaceful waking up in Rivendell. No autumn breezes to tease their eyes open upon warm sunlight and a smiling Gandalf in a nearby chair smoking his familiar pipe. It was the dead of winter, normal sunlight or warm breezes were unheard of in this godforsaken hell, and Gandalf was dead. It was dark, cold, windy, and he and Mr. Frodo were very much alone in the world. Sometimes Sam could just make out Frodo, stroking the ring, his face so full of pain. Sam knew the ring was taking over Frodo, and there was nothing he could do about it.  
  
How long will these arms be empty?  
How long will this pain be in me?  
  
Sam hardly ever thought of himself. How could he when Mr. Frodo was in such pain? But sometimes Sam couldn't help feeling dispair. Sam knew he probably spent too much of himself taking care of Frodo, but how could he help loving him so much? Frodo never knew just how much Sam loved him. Sam never really thought on it, but he was surprised to realise one day that he was in love with Frodo, the way he should have loved a hobbit-lass. But Sam loved him too much to really think about the consequences. He didn't expect to even live through this trip through Mordor. He didn't know what they would do if they ever did. It was just too hopeless.  
  
I think of you all the time  
Sometimes I wonder, do you even think of me at all?  
  
But most of Sam's thoughts were of Frodo, his best friend and one true love. Poor Frodo was having an awful time of it. There were invisible monsters, Sam knew; monsters that only Frodo could see; yet Sam could almost protect him from them. He tried his best. He did everything in his power to help Frodo, and yet in his eyes it was never quite enough. Frodo never said so, but Sam could tell that he depended upon Sam as much as Sam depended on him. And who knows? Maybe they'd live to see sunlight after all, and go home to the Shire. Maybe Sam would someday find out if Frodo ever loved him back. Maybe Sam would get to taste those beautiful lips of Frodo's that Sam caressed so often in his dreams. 


End file.
